


Discretion Forbids a Reply

by hannelore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelore/pseuds/hannelore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vernon Dursley discovers a peep hole into his nephew's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discretion Forbids a Reply

Vernon stares at the jam doughnut.

The door to his office is locked, the curtains drawn, an excuse to the secretary of dizziness which is not even a lie.

Vernon unties the strangling knot of his tie at his throat, tries to push off his tight shoes without bending down, but in this he fails. Pushing back the chair, he grunts and leans over, fat fingers fumbling with thin laces and when he pulls, one breaks. Cursing aloud, he can already feel himself getting damp in the armpits from sweat. It's the ruddy air conditioning, either too cold or too hot in here. But when he sits back up, he knows who’s to blame.

It's the doughnut. The wrinkled little hole, beckoning and open, just like bare thighs and skinned knees on a humid night. He remembers watching, every evening, the boy's fingers wandering closer and closer to that forbidden entrance. One night, Harry finally, slick-glistening and craning his neck as if he could watch himself, does it.

Vernon startles at the sound of heavy breathing, the slightest wheezing moan. But it's not the memory, it's him back at the office staring at the jam doughnut. It's all his fault. But he's not going to let it be like this, the boy needs to be taught a lesson. When Vernon watches through the peep hole in the bedroom, watches the boy's face in the moon light, utterly naughty (and unclean! It can’t possibly be right. It's nothing he would ever do.) and undone. Vernon simply can't look away until the boy has completed his affair because when he exhales to roll over on his side, Vernon can finally breathe again.

Vernon never touches himself when he watches. He never comes.

\---

11 p.m.

Harry didn’t know Uncle Vernon was watching until he saw the small circle of light on his bedspread. It was so small, he would have not even noticed it, but lying on his back with the bottle of lubrication clenched in his fist he sees the movement.

When he realizes it's not his imagination, he doesn't look directly at the hole, but he spreads himself wider. Smearing lubrication all over both hands, he grips his cock in one hand and with the other hand, he doesn't just tease himself this time, he pushes. Harry raises his hips up off the bed, just slightly, not bothering to stifle his mewls of surprise and pleasure.

Fingers fucking, thrusting, his hand tighter around his cock and -- Harry comes harder than he has in all the other nights. He waits for the circle of light to go out before he tiptoes to the bathroom, but he is grinning all the way.

\---

10 a.m.

Harry's received something in the mail and he's pretending to be nonchalant about it, but Vernon knows better. He knows because he knows how he fails at nonchalance. Once Harry has gone upstairs to his bedroom, Vernon only waits five minutes before hurrying to the bedroom. He slides aside the portrait to look into the hole in the wall, now seeing what Harry is unwrapping.

It's purple and... sparkly! Vernon presses his sweat-slicked forehead to the plaster, trained on how the boy's face breaks into a sudden grin.

"You want me like this?" Harry whispers to the strange plastic prong. "I'm getting hard already, thinking of how your cock would fuck me."

Vernon stares. But a half-second later, he finds himself at the boy's door and before he realizes why he is doing this, he is turning the doorknob and pushing it open. He didn't expect it to be unlocked.

"What... what's that you've got there then?" Vernon blusters, pointing at the thing. And then, the boy has the audacity to grin.

"It's for my arse," Harry says, gesturing to it. "It even vibrates, do you want to see?"

Vernon shakes his trembling finger, closing the door behind him as he advances on Harry. He has never been afraid to be right in the boy's face and he is now, even with that foreign thing in Harry's hand.

"You're one of those," Vernon says, his face growing as purple as the toy in Harry's hand. "You're a little pervert, aren’t you?"

"I might be," Harry says, idly rolling it between his fingers. "But you'd know, wouldn't you, Uncle Vernon? I know you've been watching me."

Vernon feels every button of his pajamas tighten, the prim knot of his bathrobe even tighter. Harry is barefoot, his pajama bottoms rolled up and the shirt tails untucked and much too long.

"Get on the bed."

"Like this?"

Harry slides back onto the bed, already pushing his loose pajama bottoms down. He's not even grinning now, but he looks hesitant and ashamed. Yes, yes, all the better.

"Yes, like that, but wider."

Vernon expects the boy to refuse, but instead he spreads his pale thighs and his erection juts upright. Vernon is still near the door, unable to take another step into the bedroom because the floor will no doubt swallow him whole for these actions.

Without another word, Harry starts to stroke his cock, but Vernon clears his throat.

"What?"

"I don't recall me saying you could touch yourself, boy."

And there's the truth. Vernon knew the little brat was faking his obedience, but now when Vernon speaks, he looks like he might hesitate.

"Can I do it now, Uncle?"

Vernon doesn't know how his nephew could possibly want this, but he sees the boy clutch the bed sheets in his fists, his cock twinges. Vernon jerks his head in a nod and he watches the boy pleasure himself. Harry continues to shift his hips up, spread his legs wider and when he gets to the point of pressing the glistening knob of the purple pronged object to his anus, he keeps looking for Vernon to nod yes.

Vernon can only nod, because he can’t speak. Once the boy is doing it, he feels the control slip away and damn him, damn him to hell, he knows Harry knows that.

"Your turn?" Harry finally says. Breathless and sated. Vernon's breathing is ragged and he feels like he might faint. His cock is straining underneath the fabric, but he doesn't touch. When he turns and leaves, he hears Harry's plaintive voice call after him.

"Uncle?"

\---

7 p.m.

This is how it is, every night. Sometimes Uncle Vernon steps further into the room, but he never touches him and Harry feels like he has to pull any demands from him. Nothing like that first time.

"I want this to be your cock," Harry declares tonight, tossing the purple toy on the bedspread. "That's what I want."

The effect is immediate. Vernon shakes his head furiously, pointing at the offensive thing. He'll deal for it for where it goes and what it does to Harry.

"Stop playing dumb," Harry says, Harry kneads the bedspread, keening low with his arse raised high in the air like a cat in heat. "I want you to do it. You want to do it to me, don't you? I know you do."

"Don't you say such ridiculous things!" Vernon snarls and smacks the boy on his arse, a loud crack. Harry jerks forward, he cock now rigid as his balls swing.

"You told me wider," Harry begs, "I know you've wanted to, I want you to."

Vernon can't breathe until he hits Harry again. He hasn't spanked Harry since the boy was ten, Petunia's beloved cream pitcher on the floor in pieces. Skinny hips sharp against his thick thighs, a boy's determination not to cry. Petunia chiding him for stopping the punishment so quickly, but Vernon was so afraid the boy would feel his erection against his ribs. When he spanks Harry now, it releases him where he was so tightly held before.

And Harry wants it. He shudders with each slap, kneading the bed spread and gasping. Vernon knows this is all his doing now and Harry is begging, undone, his head pressed down. Vernon reaches between Harry's legs, grabs his prick. His other hand on the small of the boy's back.

Harry chokes as if he's been grabbed by the throat and Vernon feels the boy's cock throb as he comes. Vernon trembles, as if he is finally allowed to come himself.

Yet when Vernon backs away and hurries to the bathroom, washing and washing and washing his hands, Vernon still hasn't come.

\---

2 p.m., Sunday afternoon.

"Put a shirt on!" Petunia calls out the window, shrill and demanding. Vernon glances over her shoulder and sees Harry, the sparse trace of hair over his chest that trails down to his navel. He's sweating over the push mower, beads of sweat on his upper lip.

Harry catches Vernon looking and grins.

\---

3 p.m.

Vernon is in his office again. His co-workers idly wonder if he's on a diet, he hasn't been to the bakery in weeks. Vernon presses his sweaty palms to the top of his desk. When he pulls them away, they leave damp marks. He has a meeting in a hour.

He keeps getting hard. But it's not the accidental adolescent arousal he experienced as a boy (a boy like Harry), it's insistent.

Vernon stares down at his crotch, as if he could rid himself of the bulge in his trousers.He swallows hard. He looks at the clock.

\---

7 p.m.

"Look at me."

Vernon stares at the portrait in his bedroom, but he's not looking at the picture, he's imagining the voice behind it.

"I know you're there. Do you know what I'm doing now? You want to know, don't you? I'm rubbing myself. Right on the other side of the wall, I'm rubbing myself. I know you're hard already, Uncle Vernon. Get in here."

Vernon storms into the boy's room, breathing hard as he sees Harry is naked, stroking himself as he leans against the wall.

"I've had enough of this," Vernon wheezes. Petunia is still downstairs reading her novel. She never reads in bed.

"I'm all prepared down there," Harry says eagerly, lying on his back but propping himself up on his elbows to look at Vernon.

"That's not what I mean!" Vernon fumes. "Enough! Shirtless at dinnertime, walking... without your trousers to the bathroom. I know what you're trying to do, boy!"

"Is it working?" Harry grins. He's coy, demure like the secretaries at work when they look at other men. Vernon raises his hand to hit the boy again, but Harry doesn't flinch. Of course he doesn't, he wants it.

"Not tonight," Vernon says nastily.

"Don't you want me?" Harry pleads. "I'll be quiet, see? Don't leave yet, I -- "

They stare at each other, neither one willing to break.

"Uncle Vernon..."

"You don't deserve it."

"Of course I don't."

Vernon is frightened, he knows what he wants, knows that would completely undo him. He pushes down his pajama bottoms.

Harry gasps.

Vernon knows now that he can spank, he can yell and demand, but it is really the boy who is directing him. And even as Harry pleads, Vernon wants --

"But you want to," Harry says.

Vernon is sure he is losing it. He feels the cool air against the new stain in his underpants, pushes those down as well. He undoes the knot in his bathrobe, fumbling as Harry spreads wider, watching.

The bed springs groan when Vernon clambers onto the bed. Harry’s eyes widen and he starts to close his thighs.

"I didn’t think -- "

"Oh no," Vernon sneers, prying the boy's legs open again. "You're not doing that now."

Vernon jerks his head toward the bottle of lubrication, his voice hoarse.

"Get it."

Harry reaches for the bottle and he reaches for Vernon's prick, the man steadying himself on Harry's upraised knees. When Harry touches him, Vernon feels as if he's been slapped himself. The boy is going too slow, his jaw slack and his lips parting uncertainly.

"It's -- it's too big."

"Should have worried about that before you went egging me on," Vernon says, breathing heavily.

"Uncle, wait -- "

Vernon leans over Harry, gripping his too-slippery prick as he finds that place he has watched Harry explore night after night. Harry clutches at Vernon's shoulders, mouth opening and closing, a small sound of pain.

"No, no more waiting. This is your fault, you did this."

Harry cries out softly at the start of the penetration and Vernon gasps, the entrance much too tight. But then he feels Harry's fingers underneath his prick, guiding, fumbling against his balls. Vernon pushes in and Harry squeezes his eyes shut tight, cheeks hot with shame, shame that makes Vernon push harder.

"Your fault," Vernon whispers hoarsely. He feels as if he's being pulled in and it's Harry's legs wrapping around his back. Thin, frail, clumsy.

"Don't stop," Harry whimpers. The same little broken noises, the ones the boy tried to stifle when he was young, trying to look brave. Vernon feels the boy's hard prick against his stomach.

"Oh, I know how you like it. You’ve showed me how rough."

Vernon pushes in until he can't get in any further. He follows the thrusting pace Harry has used with that purple sparkly toy. It’s a pity Harry wasn’t kinder to himself.

Harry's face is tight with rage, but he's crying and there's snot on his upper lip. The boy's wet and tight and pathetic. Vernon knows Harry hates himself for wanting this, he's repulsed by the smacking sound and the way his young prick thrusts up against Vernon's large belly.

But Vernon can't last long. Vernon feels the crisis like he hasn't felt it in years and when he comes, he feels like the hanged man at the moment the floor drops out from underneath him.

\----

8 p.m., the same night.

 

Dudley's furious, Father said he'd fix the telly in time for the programme, but he's still upstairs reprimanding Harry.

Dudley stomps up the stairs, but he doesn't hear any yelling. The door to his parent's room is open and Dudley can hear something like a dog in pain. Maybe Father's punishing Harry. Dudley grins as he heads back downstairs. That’s always a pleasant thought.


End file.
